


Tea and Sympathy

by dragonflower1



Category: FAKE (Manga)
Genre: Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/pseuds/dragonflower1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Ryo and Berkeley run into Dee and Diana at the hotel, Ryo doesn't arrive home until early evening. Did you ever wonder why? Slight hints of BerkeleyxRyo non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Sympathy

Ryo’s POV

 

Ohmigod, what have I done!

Punching a superior officer in the face is not a good thing to do, even if you do it because he kissed you. I reach down to help Commissioner Rose back to his feet. He takes my hand and lets me pull him up.

The Commissioner rubs his jaw as he looks up and down the now-empty street. To make matters worse, we’ve lost sight of the suspects we were supposed to be tailing. “I guess we won’t be following those suspects now. Looks like we have the rest of the afternoon off,” he says with a small chuckle.

“I’m very sorry about that, sir,” I say, trying not to mumble. I’m really mortified at having lost control.

He regards me steadily for a moment as if considering something, then smirks in a way that is startling in its familiarity. Where have I seen that smile before? “It’s okay, Ryo. I’m sure you’re just upset at seeing Dee and Diana acting like a couple of love-struck teenagers.”

“Oh no, sir, I’m fine,” I say. But I know he’s watching me as I close my eyes, for a moment unguarded – I feel like someone has just punched me in the stomach. That’s it exactly.

I’m so furious I can hardly think straight. Running into Diana and Dee outside the hotel was a surprise – and not a good one. Watching them kiss like that was nauseating, and Diana implying that they’d been together was almost more than I could bear. Damn it! I was just beginning to let my guard down and trust Dee, too. I thought he cared about me. After all of Dee’s fine words, could it be that he’s really just a player? I’m so angry and hurt and confused right now. I just want to go home, where it’s quiet, and think.

It’s almost as if Commissioner Rose can read my mind, but he’s probably just reading my face like a book. I can usually hide my emotions, but not this kind of pain – it’s too raw and unexpected. He clasps my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Look, Ryo, it seems like you need a sympathetic ear right about now. Why don’t we go someplace quiet where we can talk.”

I hesitate, not sure I can trust him –he did just pounce on me, after all. But he seems so genuinely concerned, that I finally nod and follow him blindly to his car. I don’t even ask where we’re going – I just stare unseeing out the car window – my emotions in turmoil.

Before I know it we’re at his brownstone, entering his apartment.

He takes my coat and hangs it on a coat tree by the door, as I gaze around in barely-disguised awe. His apartment is spacious and elegantly furnished. Beautiful oil paintings hang on the walls, showcased with heavy gold frames and discreet track lighting. Object d’art is scattered throughout the room, nestled on bookcase shelves and displayed on marble-topped tables. The room itself is a work of art, tastefully done with a discerning eye. It’s hard to believe he can live like this on a Commissioner’s salary.

“Come in and make your self at home, Ryo,” he says, gently taking my elbow and steering me across the room-size oriental rug to the sofa. I perch on the edge of the seat, still not sure I should be here. Rose sits next to me, relaxing back against the burgundy damask cushions. He lays his arm along the top edge of the sofa and crosses his long elegant legs at the ankles. His steel-framed glasses flash in the fading sunlight that pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, as he turns to give me his undivided attention.

I’m a bit unnerved by the soft, predatory smile that plays on his lips as he waits patiently, and I begin nervously pleating the crease of my pants at the knee.

Commissioner Rose leans forward and places his hand on my shoulder. “Talk to me, Ryo.” I glance at him uncertainly. Like Dee, I know Commissioner Rose’s cold blue eyes have already seen right through my façade. No matter how much I deny my sexuality, he can see my attraction to Dee.

If I could open up to Commissioner Rose just a little and talk about this afternoon, maybe it would help me sort out my feelings. That’s why he brought me here in the first place – right? I can’t believe I’m considering confiding in this man, but right now I feel like I have no where else to turn. I open my mouth, but can’t make anything come out. I close it again and look away, sighing in defeat. If I can’t relate my feelings to Dee, what made me think I could talk to Rose? I’m just not ready to admit so much. The Commissioner gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then releases it.

“Maybe it would be easier if I started,” he says gently. “You’re concerned about Dee.”

I hesitate, then nod, still staring forlornly at my knees. “Commissioner…,” I begin, my voice hoarse with suppressed emotions.

Rose interrupts me softly, “Call me Berkeley.”

“B-Berkeley,” I stammer, unused to the intimacy of calling him by his first name, “Do you think it’s possible that Dee and Diana…..?” My voice trails off uncertainly. I can’t even bring myself to finish that sentence.

The Commissioner sighs deeply. I look up at his serious, thoughtful expression, hoping he’ll say something comforting. That slim hope is blown away with the very next words out of his mouth. “Ryo, you’ve known from the beginning that Dee’s bisexual. He’s always been very open about that. I’ve known Diana for years – she’s a damned sexy woman, and very determined. When she sees something she wants, she goes after it. And even though Detective Laytner isn’t my cup of tea, he does have a certain rugged charm about him that some might find appealing. I could easily see Diana going for him – and him for her.”

I’m crushed – he’s demolished me with just a few choice words. Does he know that? The pain must be evident in my expression again, because now the Commissioner – er – Berkeley is solicitously rubbing circles on my back. I sit there numbly and let him. “Ryo,” he continues smoothly, “You really didn’t expect him to wait around for you forever, did you?” Ouch! That one hit home, too. “Who knows - he might be happier with Diana. And you might be happier….with someone else.”

I feel like he’s tearing my heart out. If he says anything else, so help me God, I’ll start crying. I certainly don’t want to do that in front of him.

He sits back with another small sigh, as I scrub my face with my hand, trying to ignore the stinging in my eyes. He gets up, and I hear him murmur, “I’ll just get us some tea,” as he disappears down the hall and presumably into the kitchen.

A few minutes and many deep, steadying breaths later, I get up and wander aimlessly around the living room, walking blindly past all the beautiful things. I soon find myself by the window. Twitching aside the sheer burgundy silk curtain, I watch the traffic and people hurrying home from work in the gathering twilight. I can hear Commissioner Rose in the kitchen – the rattle of the teakettle being placed on the burner – the soft chink of china being set down – and humming. The Commissioner is humming under his breath. He sounds – happy.

What can he have to be so happy about when I’m so miserable?

I clutch the dark red silk convulsively, closing my eyes against the physical pain that courses through my body. It’s amazing how emotional suffering can hurt on so many levels. Is it possible Commissioner Rose is right? Could it be that Dee finally got tired of waiting for me to make up my mind?

I wouldn’t be surprised.

Dee’s a sexy, desirable man. To have him pay any attention to me at all has been a high point in my life. To have him even attempt to bring me out of my shell is an experience that has been beyond my wildest dreams. I suppose it was unrealistic of me to expect my ‘charms’ to keep him hanging around indefinitely, especially since I’ve done so little to encourage him. If only I could overcome this damn paralysis that prevents me from reaching out to him.

I’m such a mess. Dee’s probably glad to be rid of me – glad to be with someone who lets him know they want him. I was so foolish to believe him – to believe that I could mean something more to him than a momentary distraction. He must have been insincere from the start, to be able to do something like this so easily. I guess I should be flattered that he hung around as long as he did.

A cold adrenaline rush of betrayal and regret surges through me, making my fingers and toes ache. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. I feel like I’m drowning – like I’m dying - and part of me wishes I was. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering with reaction: Could it be that Dee’s been lying to me all along?

I feel like such a fool.

That’s it – I can’t hold it in anymore.

I feel the first hot tear slip down my cheek - when suddenly the teakettle starts whistling shrilly, jarring me back to my senses – pulling me back from the edge. I quickly dash the lone tear from my face, ashamed that I allowed my control to slip so far. I have to pull myself together! A few shaky gulps of air, a little denial – come on, Ryo, you should be used to ‘that’ by now – and I can function again.

I resume my place on the sofa just as Berkeley re-enters the living room laden with a large wooden tea tray. He sets it on the coffee table and subtly steps back so I can admire what he’s laid before me. It’s an impressive and opulent sight – like everything else in his apartment. The tray itself looks like teak – and from what I can see of it, it’s inlaid with semi-precious stones and abalone. The tea service is severe and simple in design, but it’s the creamy white of the finest bone china - and delicate Greek key designs, in what could only be twenty-four carat gold, are painted on every piece. I barely glance at it.

I can feel Berkeley’s eyes boring a hole in the top of my head, so I finally look up at him. He has a strange look on his face – concerned – yet, something else as well. It’s almost a look of smug satisfaction. I must be imagining things.

“Ryo, you look so shaken.”

“No, I’m fine – really,” I manage to choke out. I keep saying that, and it keeps not being true.

Berkeley snorts in disbelief, then reaches down and practically hauls me to my feet. “Let me show you around, Ryo,” he says jovially. “You haven’t really had a chance to see my collection.” His arm still linked in mine, he drags me over to the fireplace to admire what looks suspiciously like an original Georges Seurat painting.

I can hear the sound Berkeley’s voice, but I’m not really listening to what he’s saying. The painting itself is little more than a blaze of color to me. I feel so lost inside.

Is it true, Dee? Have you really left me behind? Must I move on as well?

I glance over at Berkeley, who’s still waxing eloquent about the picture, and consider him seriously for the first time.

Ever since the first moment when our eyes met over the balcony railing of that English hotel, Berkeley Rose has been interested in me. Clueless as I pretend to be, I’ve always known it. In fact, I must admit when I first saw him, I felt a thrill run through me not unlike the one I felt when I first met Dee. There was something dangerous and attractive about him that was so familiar I couldn’t dismiss it out-of-hand. I was glad to leave for home. It was overwhelming enough to deal with Dee’s attention, never mind adding a handsome stranger to the mix.

Much to our surprise, Berkeley Rose was waiting for us at the Two-Seven when we returned from our vacation. It was surreal - and a little creepy - to have him standing right there in the squad room grinning at us. My gut told me he was there because of me, and the rapacious glint in his eye confirmed it.

We found out later, through the grapevine, that Rose had gotten himself into a bit of trouble upstate. In fact, Berkeley’s trip to England had been an extended leave of absence, to ‘consider his options’. He was in the process of transferring somewhere else, anyway. His interest in me just helped him decide where to go.

I realize I’ve been staring by the crooked grin that is spread across Berkeley’s face. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” He sounds amused.

“No, really, it’s fascinating. Tell me more,” lying again – polite to the last. I’m falling apart inside, but I still need to make sure that I’m not hurting anyone’s feelings.

Squeezing my arm, still intertwined with his, he leads me to a painting in the hall – I could swear it’s a Modigliani. He begins again his story of the hunt - the discovery - the acquisition; his voice fading to a pleasant hum as I dive into myself again.

Dee dug around for a while, but he was never able to uncover just what Berkeley had done upstate that caused his censure – the files are sealed. Dee contends it was sexual harassment or assault, or something worse. I always tell him he’s being ridiculous, but sometimes I wonder. I’ve noticed the way Berkeley watches me – like some big cat patiently waiting for the gazelle he wants to step away from the herd.

Yet here I am – in his apartment - upset and vulnerable, no less. Could it be that Dee was right about Rose after all? Is it really safe for me to be here?

Whom do I trust?

Berkeley is leading me to yet another priceless oil when I stop dead in my tracks. His body tenses, “Is everything okay, Ryo?” he asks, warily.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just a little light-headed,” I lie – again. Why do I keep feeling the need to hide from him?

“No problem,” he chuckles, relaxing a little, “All this talk of art is probably a little overwhelming. Let’s go sit and have some tea.” I look at him a little strangely. That’s right - he doesn’t know that my parents were art dealers. I grew up absorbing this kind of knowledge as a matter of course. I could probably tell him more about his paintings than even he knows.

I allow him to lead me back to the sofa and gently push me into my seat. He sits down next to me – a little closer than before, I notice – and pours out two steaming cups of dark amber Oolong. “Sugar? Milk?”

“Plain.”

Berkeley hands me my tea, then sits back and stirs his absentmindedly, making me nervous again with his stare. He watches me over the rim of his cup as he takes a sip, smirking like he knows a wonderful secret.

I place my cup on the coffee table, untouched, and turn to look at him sharply. I’m not going to allow him to unnerve me – and I want to know what’s going on behind that smile. “Comm…, uh, Berkeley, why are you being so nice to me?”

He puts his cup down next to mine and clasps his hands between his knees, frowning slightly. “Why, Ryo, since when have I ever needed a reason to be nice to you? You’re a warm, caring person – and a top-notch police officer. You’ve never given me any reason to treat you any other way.” He turns his icy-blue eyes toward me pointedly, “Unlike certain ‘other’ members of the precinct.”

He means Dee, of course.

I sit back like I’ve been struck. I actually had a moment or two of ‘not’ thinking about Dee, and now Berkeley has to bring him up again. Before I can sink back into melancholy, Berkeley suddenly twists around and braces one arm on the back of the sofa next to my head, the other on my knee. Like magic, my sadness is replaced with indignation. I glare down at the offending appendage then up at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

His blue eyes flash with anger and frustration. “Ryo, you’re too good a person to let pond scum like Laytner tear you apart like this. I can’t believe the heartless son-of-a-bitch would actually flaunt his dalliance with Diana right in your face!” He’s so vehement that he practically spits the words out. “Who knows how often he’s done something like this, too. For all you know, this isn’t the first time he’s stepped out on you.”

I hold up my hand to stop his tirade. “Wait a minute, Berkeley, what do you mean ‘step out’? Dee and I aren’t ‘together’ or anything, we’re only partners. He can go out with whomever he wants.” I draw a shaky breath and let it out. Yeah, right.

He snorts derisively. “Yeah, right,” he growls, echoing my thoughts, “You may lie to yourself, and I know you lie to Laytner, but I can see how you feel about him.”

Berkeley’s wrong on that score. I may hold my partner at arm’s length, but I have no delusions about the fact that I desire Dee, and have since I first met him.

I subtly shift away from Berkeley, trying to dislodge his hand, but he only slides it further up my leg and squeezes. My breath involuntarily hitches in my throat. I don’t want this, but I momentarily fear my body may turn traitor.

A slight tugging at the corner of Berkeley’s mouth indicates that he has registered my response.

“Ryo,” he rasps, his voice slightly husky, “You shouldn’t waste any more of your time pining over that low-life. He’s not worth it. Growing up in that orphanage - dragged up on the streets of New York like he was, it’s a wonder he’s not in jail or dead.” Berkeley finally removes his hand from my leg, only to trail it lightly up and down the front of my shirt. I sit perfectly still, not quite sure how to respond, as I watch him toy with one of my buttons. I feel a bit like a mouse that’s been caught by a cat. When I finally glance up into his amused eyes, I hope I don’t look as lost as I feel.

“How do you know about Dee’s upbringing?” I ask, desperately attempting to distract him from his fascination with my clothing.

Berkeley snorts in amusement, casually dropping his hand to my leg again. “I’m the Commissioner, that’s how. I have access to everyone’s records.” He sighs in exasperation, and continues. “I don’t even know how ‘Detective’ Laytner managed to make it onto the police force - or why he’s still on it, for that matter. He has more reprimands and reports in his record than anyone else in the entire precinct. I’ve read every page of Laytner’s sordid file – it’s quite entertaining reading.”

“But why would you need to read his whole file?” I ask, slightly bewildered.

“I want to know everything I can about my rival. I’m a firm believer in ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’”

I offer a small smile, thinking that Berkeley’s joking - but one look at his narrowed eyes and set jaw, and I can see that he’s deadly serious.

Berkeley’s unexpected bark of laughter has a cruel ring to it, “Did you know he never even finished high school? He had to go back and get his GED. What an idiot.” The grin that settles on his lips has a sadistic twist – he’s enjoying shredding Dee to ribbons.

I’m starting to get angry. Even though I’m not sure where things stand between Dee and I right now, my feelings for him are too strong for me to just sit here and allow someone to run him down. Without conscious thought, I find myself coming to my dark-haired partner’s defense. “Why do you hate Dee so much?” I ask suddenly.

Berkeley sits back abruptly at my question, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t hate Dee, Ryo, I’m just angry at him for hurting you.”

I brush my heavy forelock back from my face and turn to look at Berkeley more directly. “It seems like more than that. Being angry at him is one thing, but this sounds a lot like character assassination. You’ve gone from talking about the incident at the hotel, to how unreliable, ill-bred and stupid Dee is. We don’t even know what really happened today. For all we know, Diana could have been kidding.”

Berkeley cocks one eyebrow, and regards me over the top of his glasses. “You think so?” he asks, his voice gone dangerously quiet. “You’re quick to defend him, Ryo, yet you push him away again and again. Why is that, I wonder?”

Berkeley gently touches my cheek, then runs his fingers through my hair. I try to move away, but I’m already pressed into the cushion. He scoots a little closer, and I can feel his warm breath in my ear as his voice drops to a velvety purr. “You know I’ve watched you and Dee, and your little tug-of-war. Did you ever stop to wonder why you can’t bring yourself to return his feelings? I think I know why. It’s because you don’t want someone as common as him pawing at you. You deserve better – and you know it. You’ve been waiting for someone more civilized, who can really appreciate you. Someone who can give you the best things life has to offer. I think you’ve been waiting for me.”

He is so wrong about all of it, and he doesn’t even realize.

I open my mouth to refute his assertion, to tell him the first truth of the day, but never get the chance. His chest presses against my arm as he leans in to kiss me deeply. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck as he holds me to him. Overwhelming me – he masters me with his lips and tongue. I can’t even decide whether I want to respond or not – I’m so completely dominated – I have no choice.

Although on some level I find it exciting to be so controlled, it frightens me as well – and panic bubbles to the surface. I begin to struggle and push at him, but to no avail - his hand like a vice on the back of my head. As he shifts to slide his arm around my waist and draw me closer, I use the momentary lull to my advantage. I jerk my face away from his as though I’ve been burned, then stand abruptly and turn away - head bowed and arms crossed protectively over my abdomen - sick with dread.

I now know something for certain.

Given half a chance, Berkeley Rose would have me in his bed inside of a month, whether I was ready or not. He sees my soft and quiet nature as a weakness he can exploit, so it would be a constant surprise to him when I didn't bend to his will. I would be a challenge to him - and my gut tells me that he would be cold and ruthless enough to try and force me if I didn’t comply with his timetable.

I’m sure he doesn’t love me – it’s lust, pure and simple. He wants me like a sculpture or a painting – a new acquisition – the latest addition to his collection. I’m beautiful and well-mannered, and that’s about all he requires - something lovely to grace his arm, and his bed.

I hear Rose get up off the sofa and approach me. I pray he doesn’t touch me. I’m so angered by this attempted seduction, that I’d probably punch him again. He must sense my dangerous frame of mind, because he just brushes past me. “You look pale, Ryo. Let me make you a sandwich,” he says softly, slithering out of the room and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Dee Laytner and Berkeley Rose really are amazingly similar, and yet as different as night and day.

Both of them are strong-willed and opinionated. In fact, each one believes his own opinion is the right one. Both have a dark sensuality that draws me in almost effortlessly – like the proverbial moth to the flame. And each has a barely-controlled temper simmering just below the surface. In fact, they butt heads constantly – two alpha males fighting for supremacy. It’s a good thing they’re both in law enforcement, or I’d be afraid they’d kill each other.

They both want me, as well. Both think that grabbing and kissing me will make me succumb to their advances. As I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, I wonder why it is that I never feel this violated and dirty when Dee does it.

I can answer that question easily.

Dee offers not only kisses, but a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on – and maybe even love. Yes, he wants me – but, truth be told, I’ve always wanted him as well. He respects my boundaries, much as I complain to the contrary. He pushes me to the edge of my limits, but he’s never ‘really’ frightened me by pushing too far. And as much as he complains about it, I know he appreciates my determination and strong will. He’s so crabby and prickly and stubborn, I think he likes the fact that I’ll go toe-to-toe with him when we argue. There aren’t many who will stand up to Dee’s volatile temper.

Dee appreciates my strength and values my opinion. In fact, he holds dear all those things about me that Berkeley doesn’t even see.

And he genuinely cares about me. After what transpired in front of the hotel today, I’d bet money that Dee will come by my place at some point tonight to try and calm me down. I want to be there when he shows up. I care about him as well, and I have to give him the benefit of a doubt. I don’t know what really went on this afternoon - all I know is what it looked like - and all I’ve gotten from Berkeley are half-truths and innuendoes. I’m not going to just let Dee go without knowing the facts – and I’m not about to give him up to anyone without a fight.

I shudder as if waking from a dream.

What the hell am I doing here in Berkeley Rose’s apartment anyway? My gaze lingers on the cup of tea cooling on the table. I don’t want to be here, drinking tea with Rose. I don’t want to pretend we’re having a civilized conversation, when I know all he’s waiting for is the next opportunity to molest me.

I don’t know what I expected in coming here. Sympathy? Friendship? Understanding? I’m so naïve sometimes. I should have known I wouldn’t get any of that from him. The Commissioner clearly saw this as an opportunity to drive a wedge between me and Dee. He’s been trying to seduce me all afternoon – this had nothing to do with lending a sympathetic ear.

I feel so betrayed.

Berkeley used every trick in the book to twist today to his own advantage, whispering poisonous words in my ear about Dee - muddying the waters - and causing me to doubt my judgment and Dee’s loyalty.

Dee will stand or fall on his own merit – and if he’s nothing else, he is honest. Dee’s always been honest with me – whether I like it or not.

I can’t say the same for Commissioner Rose. As Berkeley and I were walking away this afternoon, I vaguely recall Dee yelling something about being set up. Could it be that this afternoon was more than just a coincidence? Could Rose really be so underhanded as to try to incriminate Dee in some way, so I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him? Berkeley certainly had means, motive, and opportunity. He obviously has designs on me, and he’ll stop at nothing once he decides he wants something. Is it possible - with his good friend and confidant, Diana, as an accomplice - that they plotted something like this together? I’m starting to think it might be true. The evidence is pretty incriminating.

Now that I see what’s going on here, I can’t believe I didn’t before. I wonder if Rose realizes that he’s now as transparent to me as he thinks I am to him. Anger rushes through my system so strongly it almost crackles in the air. Berkeley Rose has overplayed his hand this time.

It was a mistake coming here at all.

I already have on my coat when Rose comes back from the kitchen, plate of sandwiches in hand. “Commissioner Rose, I really need to get going,” I say, not quite looking him in the eye. I really can’t stand the sight of him right now.

“So soon?” he asks, concerned, placing the plate on the table and coming to stand next to me by the door.

“I-I just remembered that my son is going to be home early for dinner tonight. I need to be there.”

“Are you sure I can’t entice you to stay a little longer?” he whispers huskily, stepping closer. I step back as well, trying to maintain our distance, but I am against the door now, and can go no further. The knob and locks dig painfully into my back. The Commissioner plants his hands on the door, by either side of my head.

Not again!

Before I can do or say anything else, he presses himself against me, effectively pinning me to the door. Leaning in, he claims my mouth with his, running his tongue over my lower lip, looking for a way in. My whole body tingles with outrage, and I see red.

The next thing I know Rose is on the floor, hand to his jaw. I rub my stinging knuckles with my other hand, as I glare contemptuously down at him. He looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes. I’m not helping him up this time. “Good night, Commissioner,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

I let myself out of his apartment and shut the door firmly behind me.

It’s time to go home.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: FAKE and its characters belong to Sanami Matoh. I don’t own them. I play with them sometimes, but I always put them back just the way I found them.
> 
> Yet another story from when I was writing back in 2004. 
> 
> Original Acknowledgements: Thanks to Madelyne for filling me in on the nature of a police commissioner’s position.
> 
> And special thanks to Ipomea7 and Swordy, my sisters near and far, for your friendship and encouragement. I love ya both!


End file.
